[017] - The Collector

In response to this prompt, positing that a shady individual identifying himself as the Collector introduces himself to the character in question.

***

The incessant knocking on my door spurred me out of bed.  I threw on a shirt and a pair of pants, frowning all the while.  Who the hell showed up at 2:17 in the morning and expected an answer?  I imagined only the police, but I didn’t see the distinct pattern of flashing lights through my window.  Even as I finished zipping up the pants and grabbed my phone, the knocking intensified to banging.  I stormed down the stairs, muttering under my breath and the insistent pounding ceased when I reached the front door.  I looked through the peephole and saw nothing, even though the porch light’s motion sensor had triggered.

“Seriously?” I said, shaking my head.  “Asshole.”

I stepped away and started to head back to the stairs, only for my harasser to start hammering on my door once more.  Spinning back the direction I’d come, I threw open the door, ready to make it clear to my visitor my extreme displeasure at the hour of their calling.  The figure that greeted my eyes didn’t match my expectations given their slender frame, but didn’t appear repentant in the slightest about their arrival so early in the morning.  Their garb made it hard to determine their gender, as they wore just a dark-colored and loose fitting cloak that concealed the body and much of their face.  Only their eyes showed clearly, their attention focused squarely on me and striking me as distinctly unnatural due to their darkness.

“It’s two in the fucking morning!  What do you want?”

“I am the Collector.”

Its voice lacked much inflection and fell in the range that could have belonged to a man or a woman.  The only clarity came from the way in which it described itself, not merely advising of their job function, but their formal title.  Even so, I couldn’t think of a single thing I owed anyone.  For once, I’d caught up on all my debts.  He or she must have the wrong address, but I did find myself somewhat curious as to what drove this individual to conduct its business at such an unreasonable hour.

“Collector of what?”

“I am the Collector, and I have come to collect.”

“What exactly are you here to collect?”

“I have come to collect that which needs to be collected.  What has been collected from others.  What needs to be collected from others still to come.”

“I guess I have some crap I need to get rid of in the garage.  Is that what you want?”

The figure just moved its head from side to side.

“Look, I really need to get some rest.  Tell me what it is you’re here for, or leave.  Clearly you thought you had to wake me up from a perfectly good slumber for some reason.”

“I am here to collect.”

“So you’ve said.  Multiple times.” I made no attempt to mask the frustration in my voice.  “I’m going back to bed.  Go collect from someone else, I’m sure with your stellar communication skills your won’t have any problems.  Asshole.”

I slammed and locked the door, heading back to bed, ignoring the renewed banging as I stepped away.  To my surprise, it stopped shortly after I reached my room.  Apparently the Collector, whatever they might be collecting had grown equally as frustrated as myself.  I welcomed the opportunity to rest and stripped back down to my boxers and got back into the bed.

“Everything okay, honey?” my wife asked upon laying back down.

“Yeah.  They woke you up, too?”

“Who?”

“The jerk who was knocking on our door in the middle of the night.”

“I didn’t hear a thing.  I just thought your stomach might be disagreeing with you.”

“No, I’m fine.  Some idiot was knocking on our door and wouldn’t stop.”

“What did they want?”

“To collect something, apparently.  They wouldn’t really specify.”

“Well, try to get some rest.  I love you.”

“Love you too.”

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep after fuming silently for a little while longer.

***

Only an hour or so later, I woke again, this time to the droning of a voice repeating the same phrase over and over: I collect.  I snapped to awareness, turning my head sideways to see the cloaked figure from the door standing at my bedside.  As before, its gaze did not waver from me at all and it continued its chanting even after it saw me wake.  I propelled myself out of the bed, grabbing the cloaked form and slamming it against the wall.

“I collect.” It said, slipping out of my grasp, and almost gliding to the opposite side of the room.  “I collect.”

“No you don’t.”

I made my way over to the other side, picking up a glass of water from my bedside table.  It continued its chant, unmindful of my progress and making no attempt to shield itself in response to the glass that I now raised in threat.  The glass shattered upon hitting the form, blood staining its previously clear surface and the figure falling to the ground.  Still it chanted and displayed no signs of pain or self-preservation, despite the blood that I could now see marring its face.

“What the hell are you possibly collecting?” I shouted, kicking its fallen body.  “Pain?  Pleasure from pain?  What?”

“I collect…” it said again, and I slammed down the broken glass into its face once more before stepping back, retrieving my cell phone and dialing the police.

“…sanity.” Its monotonous voice finished when I ended my call to the cops.  “Thank you for your cooperation.”

With that, it vanished, leaving behind it only the maimed body of my wife lying prone and nearly motionless on the floor.  I let the phone drop from my hand and rushed to her side, falling to my knees and cradling her head.  I didn’t understand how this could have happened.  Deb meant more to me than anything else in the world.  Now I found her taken from me, by what?  Some hallucination?  A demon?  What the fuck?  What the hell was I going to do now?

“Nick…what happened?  I…love…”

“I love you too, honey.  Don’t leave me.  Please.  Please, I’m sorry!  Deb!  DEB!”

She gave no response, just one final breath as her eyes drifted closed.  I sobbed and let the tears roll down my cheeks without resistance.  Shivering and mumbling incoherently, I ran my fingers through her hair as I had lovingly done so many time before and waited for the police to come.